An Explosive End
by AshenMoon42
Summary: The Marauders have a plan to dispose of the Death Eaters once and for all, but someone's leaking information, and the time is almost out. / / Muggle!AU / / Crime!AU


**AN EXPLOSIVE END**

**For the International Wizarding Schools Championship.**

**Beauxbatons / Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Main prompt: [genre] crime**

**Additional prompts: [pairing - platonic] James/Sirius, [action] explosion**

**Year: 7**

**Wordcount: 2,202**

**This is a muggle crime AU, and the details are explained throughout the story, but here's a brief outline. **

**James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are criminals in modern London. The Death Eaters, led by Riddle, are a gang based nearby.**

**The timeline is a bit jumbled, but I've been assured it's understandable. **

* * *

The light from the streetlamps glinted dully off the wet pavement, the reflections morphing into grotesque shapes as James splashed through the puddles. A man stood at the corner, the smoke from his cigarette twisting through the cold night air. He didn't look up as James approached.

"Is that it?" the man asked. A drawling upper-class accent coloured his voice. His icy eyes, from under his old-style brown hat, stared pointedly at the leather briefcase in James's hands.

James nodded in reply. "You have the money?"

"It's here," the man said.

They made the exchange. Beneath his gloves, James's hands were sweating, but he didn't let it show, putting just a lick of strength into the firm handshake. His grip was steady as he examined the notes, then counted them carefully.

"Good business," the man said by means of a goodbye. He brushed a strand of white-blond hair back under his hat.

"Yes," James said.

He splashed back down the alley, picking his way through the puddles, and strode out onto the wider streets of London with two hundred quid in his pocket and the briefcase far behind him.

* * *

James was the public face, with his blinding smile, charming dark eyes, and schoolboy haircut. He drew the target in, greeted them, and distracted them with elaborate tales, his lively attitude, and a healthy arrogance. When the worst came to the worst, he was the one to throw the punch and the one to be locked up while the others made a getaway. After all, his father could bail him out of any situation.

Sirius stayed in the background to avoid the all-seeing gaze of his estranged parents, who were still looking for their lost heir after all these years. He hacked the computers and wired the bombs and forged the paperwork. If given a high vantage point and a decent gun, he was the best shot of all the four.

Remus was adept in the subtle arts. He could stand against a wall and blend into the background, and the target would walk past him without perceiving him at all. He could put his hand in a man's pocket and take out a wad of cash in half a second and be gone before the target even noticed. When it came down to it, he could throw a punch and shoot a gun, but usually, he left that to James or Sirius, both of whom were more practised in that kind of thing.

Peter was the landlord and the man with the contacts. Somehow he had a finger in everyone's pie, a stake in every bet, and a share in every winning. Despite his habit of spending more than he swindled, he was a useful man if given a budget, and a loyal one if given enough pay.

* * *

It was the night before the transaction, and Sirius's hands shook as he soldered the wires together, his eyes aching from lack of sleep and body thrumming from the sixth mug of coffee that roared through his system. The bomb sat in front of him, silent.

When the time came, it wouldn't tick, or spark ominously, or have a glowing red display. The numbers were subtle and hidden, the wires simple, and the bomb itself sophisticated and efficient. When it was finished, he sat back and stared at its hulking shape, then lifted it and lowered it into a nondescript leather briefcase, carefully flicking the lock shut.

He lifted his head and yelled, "Remus!"

"What?" Came the reply as the curly-haired man walked into the room.

"It's done."

* * *

"Is it done?" Were the words that greeted James as he returned. It was Sirius Black, hair knotted behind his head, fingertips stained with oil and eyes wide with anticipation.

James smiled. "It's done. I doubt he suspects. Remus?"

Another man walked through the door behind him, his breath heavy. "Didn't even check what was inside. He's back in the building now. Only an hour left." When he took off his coat, a stream of water followed and soaked the floor.

"Not the carpets again, Rem!" a fourth man cried from farther into the flat. He slumped on a sunken sofa, his blond bowl-cut mussed up from sleep. "And leave your shoes in the hallway!"

"Sorry, Pete."

James laughed from where he stood. "Come have a drink, lads. Come on! We've done it! Those bastards'll be gone soon enough."

Sirius fetched his cigarettes from his room and dug the whiskey out of the back of the cupboard. "Here, Ogden's finest."

"We should keep off the drink," Remus said in a low voice. "It's not over yet."

They fell silent.

* * *

The Death Eaters were a gang who prowled the neighbouring streets.

They killed those who wouldn't be noticed or remembered, injured those who wouldn't tell, and stole from those who couldn't afford it. Riddle was their leader, a man who had been a corrupt member of the police before being caught. He'd been gone for years in prison, but the moment he was let out, he'd found his old contacts and brought them together to establish his rule over this area of London.

Not that the Marauders (as the four called themselves) cared about the morals of the situation. The issue with the Death Eaters was that they were competition and that targets were being taken faster than opportunities were arising.

The competition, the boys decided, needed to be thinned out. And so the plan emerged.

* * *

"Are you scared, James?"

James straightened his coat and pulled a hood over his head. "I've done this kind of thing before."

"I didn't ask that."

James looked straight into Sirius's eyes.

"I've known you all my life, James. You're terrified; I can see it. But this is just … think of it as just another job, mate. This'll change everything, but it's just another job."

James stared into the sombre grey eyes of his brother. "The Death Eaters…"

"Will be gone forever. Stop worrying."

He sighed, then swallowed. "You're right, you know? I'm bloody terrified."

"I'm always right." Sirius leaned forward and wrapped his arms around James's neck. James leant into the hug, letting himself be enveloped by the warmth of Sirius's arms. "You'll be fine, James. Go on."

And James left, briefcase clutched in a shaking hand, scuffing his shoes in the scattered puddles along the way.

* * *

As James made the exchange, Remus watched from the opposite side of the road. The shadows lingered behind him, tugging him towards them, urging him to step back into their safety.

But James was doing his job, and Lucius's eyes were fixed firmly on the case, and when he turned to leave, they skipped straight over Remus where he stood against the bricks. Watching as James left, he waited for Lucius to move before edging away from his spot, avoiding puddles and loose stones that would splash or creak and give him away. When Malfoy turned the corner, so did he, eyeing the sharp lines of his suit and seeing no sign of discomfort or knowledge. Remus, staying in the folds of the shadows, let himself be led down the maze of alleys.

Lucius stopped at a rusted and thoroughly graffitied door, then looked behind him. Remus froze, hoping the wall was near enough and casting the right shadows to conceal him. The night could be deceiving.

No reaction. The Death Eater withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, stepping in smoothly. He tucked the briefcase just inside before closing the door and locking it again. There was a pause before Remus heard footsteps inside, leading deeper into the building.

He breathed a relieved sigh. The burden of the briefcase had been on his mind for the last twenty hours or so, sitting so nearby, so innocently on the coffee table as if it wasn't what it was, as if it couldn't obliterate them if there was even the tiniest fault.

He turned around to return to the flat, checking around in every direction before setting off, a little less weighing on his shoulders.

* * *

James walked onto the spindly balcony of their flat. Sirius sat at the railing, cigarette hanging limply from his fingers, forgotten as the man's grey eyes stared into the London night. Here, the night-walkers were like figurines, like the toy soldiers James had grown up playing with.

"Half an hour," Sirius said.

"Went fast," James murmured.

"Forty-seven minutes, actually," came a voice from behind. Remus stood silhouetted in the doorway against the lights of the flat. "Gimme a fag, Sirius."

"Where's Pete?" James asked.

"Said he was checking the security on some site. He's in his room with the laptop now."

"What the hell's he think he's doing? This is more important than some hacking job. This is…" James let all the air out of his lungs in a long-suffering sigh. "Doesn't he get it?"

Sirius frowned. "He should be out here, with us."

Remus groaned. "We can check on him in a sec. Just… I need a smoke, Sirius. Please."

"Alright. We've got twenty minutes anyway."

James grinned when he looked at his watch. "Thirty-six."

"Shut the hell up."

* * *

In the flat, twenty-three minutes before the timer would stop, James was staring in confusion at the screen of the laptop.

He stood, pressed his ear to the bathroom door, and breathed shakily at the sound of the shower. Peter would be at least twenty minutes in there.

"Sirius!" he hissed. "Remus!"

The two men came in from the adjoining room. Silently, James turned the screen towards them. Remus choked. Sirius gaped.

"What?" they both exclaimed at once.

"Keep your bloody voices down!" he whispered. "He's in the shower now."

"But … Pete." Shock riddled Sirius's features. "Pete is working with Riddle."

"Yeah. Yeah, he is."

Without a word, Remus stood and braced himself against the bathroom door. He motioned towards the door and looked to the other two for permission.

They both nodded and joined him by the entrance as he rammed his shoulder once, twice, three times into the wood before he crashed through into the foggy room. The heat making his shirt stick to his chest.

The shower was empty, and in the corner, the window hung wide open.

"He's gonna tell them," James said. "He's gonna bloody warn them. Come on!"

They were out the door in an instant.

They rushed past the pulsing beat of nightclubs and the neon displays of fast-food joints, past shuttered storefronts and the dark windows of houses whose occupants had turned in for the night. It was, after all, almost midnight.

Peter was at the end of the street, his pace a fast jog, and they looked at each other with determined gleams in their eyes once they saw the familiar head of flaxen hair disappear around the corner. They sped up.

He was so, so close.

They were only metres away from the alley where the door was. James, in a last desperate bid, threw himself forwards and he managed to catch Peter's ankle, bringing them to the ground in a heap. He clutched at hair and scrabbled at Pete's face until he had his hands around the neck of the traitor.

"You little rat," he hissed. "You were going to tell them. Working for Riddle this whole time, you traitorous bastard."

Pete whimpered. "I… I would never. James, I'd never—"

"We saw the laptop, Peter. Those emails. And the empty shower stall and the open window. It's over."

"I—"

"James," Sirius said with curious voice. "Get off him. Let him go."

"What? He betrayed us!"

Sirius gave him a look that Pete couldn't see, then a nearly imperceptible nod.

Gradually, James took his hands away from Peter's neck and stood up. Pete, confused, ran into the safety of the Death Eater building, fumbling with key and lock, then fastening the rusted door behind him. James and Remus both looked towards Sirius, who was looking at his watch.

"Take cover," he said.

They only just made it behind a wall on the opposite side of the street as the blast overwhelmed the house opposite.

The world roared, and the earth shook, and the sky rained fire upon their heads. Screams died away into the night air, and their ears rang, but they had succeeded, and the three of them fell, once the shock faded, into a comfortable silence while they all addressed whatever was spinning 'round their heads.

"The timer," Sirius said after a moment with a casual shrug. "I knew someone was leaking. So I changed it."

The Death Eaters were no more. The street burned, and the air smouldered, and the three criminals stared into the raging flames.


End file.
